The gunshot was rapid.
Sharp.
Precise.
For a second, no one understood what had happened.
The music was still playing inside the private garden hall. Laughter lingered in the air. Glasses clinked. Politicians and businessmen stood in tailored suits, smiling too widely, pretending they didn't know whose territory they were standing on.
Then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground broke the illusion.
Thud.
Choi Min-jae, the head of Chiosung-pa, the most feared mafia leader in the entire Gangnam district, collapsed forward.
No one suspected a thing.
No one expected it.
Because who in their right mind would dare to target the head of Chiosung-pa?
The man controlled ports, politicians, corporations, and underground networks across South Korea and beyond. His name alone was enough to end negotiations before they began.
Yet here he was.
Fallen.
Like dust.
For half a heartbeat, the world froze.
Then chaos erupted.
"Chairman!"
"Sniper! It's a sniper!"
"Find him!"
Armed men drew their weapons instantly, scanning rooftops, balconies, shadows beyond the garden walls. Security scattered in every direction. Guests screamed and ducked for cover.
But Choi Hae-in didn't move.
She couldn't.
Her eyes were locked on the red spreading across her father's white shirt.
"Appa…"
Her heels scraped against the marble as she rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him. The impact stung, but she didn't feel it.
Her hands pressed against the side of his head.
Warm blood soaked her palms immediately.
The shot had been calculated.
One bullet.
Clean entry.
No hesitation.
The sniper must have been positioned far away — very far — and by now he was long gone.
"Someone call an ambulance!" she screamed.
Her voice cracked through the chaos, but no one answered.
The men of Chiosung-pa were too busy searching for a ghost.
They were loyal.
They were trained.
And they were furious.
But none of them were looking at the man bleeding out on the ground.
"Secretary Cha!" she yelled, her voice shaking.
The older man stood frozen near the stage, his glasses slightly crooked, his face drained of color.
"Call an ambulance!" she ordered again, more forcefully.
He blinked, as if waking from a nightmare.
"Yes— yes, Miss Hae-in," he stammered, fumbling for his phone.
Hae-in leaned closer to her father.
His breathing was uneven.
Shallow.
His eyes were barely open.
"Stay with me," she whispered, her tears falling onto his blood-stained collar. "You're strong. You've survived worse than this. You always do."
He had survived ambushes.
He had survived a knife through his shoulder.
He had survived three separate assassination attempts in the past decade.
He was Choi Min-jae.
He was invincible.
He could not die like this.
Not at a charity gala.
Not in front of everyone.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
The ambulance arrived within minutes, pushing through the sea of black suits.
Paramedics rushed forward, kneeling beside him, assessing quickly.
"Severe cranial trauma."
"Pulse weak."
"Blood pressure dropping."
The words sliced through her.
"I'm coming with him," she said before anyone could protest.
No one dared stop her.
They lifted him onto the stretcher and rushed him into the ambulance. Hae-in climbed in beside him, gripping his hand tightly while the paramedics worked with urgent precision.
Oxygen mask.
Compression.
Bandages.
More blood.
It wouldn't stop.
"Appa, don't close your eyes," she begged. "You promised you would watch me take over one day. You said I was ready."
His fingers twitched faintly in her grasp.
Or maybe she imagined it.
The ride felt endless.
When they reached the hospital, doctors were already waiting.
They rushed him through the emergency entrance, straight toward the operating room.
The doors swung shut.
The red light above flickered on.
Surgery in progress.
Hae-in stood outside, frozen.
Her white dress was soaked red from waist to hem.
Her hands were stained.
Her world had tilted violently off its axis.
Within minutes, black vehicles began arriving one after another.
The men of Chiosung-pa filled the hospital corridor.
Armed.
Silent.
Tense.
The air shifted.
Nurses moved nervously. Other patients were relocated discreetly. The entire floor was unofficially under mafia control now.
Secretary Cha approached her carefully.
"Miss Hae-in… the perimeter has been secured. We are tracking possible sniper locations."
"Find him," she said quietly.
Her voice no longer trembled.
"Find who did this."
"Yes, Miss."
More men arrived.
Division heads.
Lieutenants.
Enforcers.
Their faces were grim.
Because this wasn't just an assassination attempt.
If Choi Min-jae died tonight—
Chiosung-pa would fracture.
And their enemies would attack.
Power did not sit empty for long.
It was taken.
Ripped apart.
Her phone vibrated in her clutch.
She ignored it.
Then it rang again.
And again.
Other clans.
Political allies.
Business partners.
They all knew.
News traveled fast in their world.
Faster than bullets.
"Miss," one of the senior members spoke carefully, "perhaps you should return home and change. We will remain here."
She looked down at herself.
Blood.
Her father's blood.
"I'm not leaving," she said firmly. "I will stay here."
He bowed slightly. "As you wish."
Time passed slowly.
Every time the operating room door made a sound, every man in the hallway straightened immediately.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Fearing.
Hae-in paced back and forth.
Her mind raced.
If her father survived, retaliation would be swift.
If he didn't—
Her chest tightened.
She forced the thought away.
The doors finally opened.
All movement in the hallway stopped.
The doctor stepped out, removing his gloves.
His expression was careful.
Too careful.
Hae-in's heart dropped.
"We're sorry," he began gently. "The bullet caused severe brain damage and massive blood loss. We did everything we could."
The words echoed.
We're sorry.
Did everything we could.
Her ears rang.
For a moment, she didn't understand.
Then the meaning settled in.
"He's gone."
Gone.
Just like that.
The head of Chiosung-pa.
Dead.
The hallway fell into suffocating silence.
Some of the men lowered their heads.
Others clenched their fists.
One punched the wall quietly, rage simmering beneath control.
Secretary Cha's shoulders slumped slightly.
Hae-in didn't scream.
She didn't collapse.
She stood there.
Still.
Empty.
Then reality struck harder than the bullet ever could.
Her father was dead.
Which meant—
Chiosung-pa had no leader.
The most powerful mafia organization in Gangnam had just been decapitated.
Her phone rang again.
This time she answered.
"Yes."
"Miss," the voice on the other end said urgently, "Seocho-gang members are already mobilizing. There are rumors the Sangrim group is planning to seize the port contracts by morning."
Of course they were.
Predators circled when they smelled blood.
"Secure our headquarters," she said calmly. "No one enters without clearance."
"Yes, Miss."
She ended the call.
Several senior members turned toward her instinctively.
Waiting.
Watching.
Uncertain.
She felt it.
The shift.
For years, she had been the perfect daughter.
Educated abroad.
Polished.
Prepared.
But she had never been the leader.
Until now.
She inhaled slowly.
"Call an emergency meeting," she ordered.
Their eyes widened slightly.
"Tonight."
"Yes, Miss Hae-in."
She turned toward the window at the end of the corridor.
Gangnam's lights glittered below, unaware that its underground ruler had just fallen.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass.
Blood-stained.
Grieving.
But steady.
"They think we're weak now," she murmured softly.
Behind her, one of the enforcers spoke through clenched teeth.
"We will avenge the Chairman."
"Yes," she said quietly.
They would.
But revenge required strategy.
And strategy required power.
Power she did not fully have.
Not yet.
Somewhere in this city, someone had dared to fire that bullet.
And somewhere else, powerful men were already calculating their next move.
Chiosung-pa was wounded.
And wounded beasts either died—
Or became monsters.
Hae-in wiped her tears with the back of her hand, leaving a faint red streak across her cheek.
"I won't let you fall," she whispered to herself.
Not the clan.
Not her father's legacy.
Not everything he built.
Tonight, a bullet had shattered the illusion of invincibility.
Tonight, darkness had claimed Gangnam.